


The Guardians

by anticipatewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 12:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16598246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticipatewrites/pseuds/anticipatewrites
Summary: The true nature of the Winchesters is revealed.





	The Guardians

A/n: This is a very short story with a hell of a lot of content. Also, I have no idea where it came from, but here it is. I hope you like it. It's a bit different. 

Word count: 1k

Summary: The true nature of our beloved boys is revealed.

Warnings: blOooD, deathish for a main character?, seriously, I think there's only one cuss word (wtf is wrong with me lately, right?) possible warning for overly poetic prose. Oh, and complete bastardization of biblical lore. For anybody who knows enough to notice, I apologize. (Lookin’ at you, Nash.)

 

 

 

Fatal was the word that flashed brightly, hotly in Dean’s mind. His eyes grew wide as if trying to perceive some flaw in the truth that lay before him. Sam’s large hands flew to his mangled throat, trying to stem the arterial spray, blood streaming from his lips and nose. He made a great, wet sucking noise and fell to his knees, the straw on the floor of the barn already permeated with too much of his essence. Baphomet laughed, his terrible horns sticky and dripping with the evidence of his kill. 

A bomb of emotions detonated inside of Dean. Numerous and complicated and interwoven. Foremost were despair, love... and rage. Looking around at the company of demons surrounding and restraining him and at his beloved brother choking out his last garbled breaths in the dirty, waste ridden straw, he made up his mind. No, this was not where their story ended. An unnamed strength uncoiled itself inside him. He thought of his Sam. The boy that he had stolen bread for. The tiny body that he had held in his arms on nights that they worried their dad wasn't coming back, stroking his too-long hair and whispering soothing words while tears soaked through Dean's t-shirt. That lawyer’s mind, so big and always thirsting for knowledge, only dwarfed by the mighty heart that sat beating in his chest. No, the goat-headed demon and his disgusting followers did not deserve to be the ones who took down the Winchesters. 

The old gray wooden doors to the barn flew open then. Castiel, even without his grace, was an imposing sight. But Baphomet was a formidable demon, and Cas was no match for the demonic army who followed him. But where the Winchesters went so did he, chosen family more important than all of the battalions of Heaven. Even unto the end. 

Dean's tear-muddled gaze fixated on his brother, dead on the ground, and then on his angel, remembering the night that Castiel had revealed himself for the first time. The shadow of his huge wings had spanned the walls of that barn, so similar to the one they found themselves in now. The depth of the eternity that Cas had given up for the fleeting life of a human hit Dean hard. He locked eyes with his friend and let out a whimper-groan, struggling in the demons’ grasp. 

Angel blade drawn, Castiel smiled a sad smile, knowing what was to befall them that night. 

The angel’s gravely voice cut through the din of the demons’ snarls to caress his heart. ‘I'm here, Dean. Come what may.’ 

The demon horde moved towards the angel that had fallen on behalf of two brothers. He stood his ground, ready to take out as many of them as he could before the inevitable. Always happy to bleed for the the Winchesters, he gripped his blade and faced them. 

‘Nooooooo!’ Dean let out a bellowing, desperate plea. He struggled fruitlessly against the clawed hands that held him. Angry tears ran down his face and he felt the impending loss in the pit of his stomach. 

And then something broke loose inside him. Something so deep that the Mark of Cain hadn't touched it, it was the thing that made the demon in him sing karaoke instead of slaughtering the masses. The thing that made him keep fighting. Something that he had always been. The Righteous Man. The Michael Sword. A Winchester. 

The demons restraining him let out a hiss as they shrank away from Dean, releasing him from their hold. A white light emanated from his green eyes, illuminating the dingy barn. He turned to the demon-beast, a smile spreading across his tear stained face. 

Castiel watched Dean in awe, his jaw hanging slack as he realized the truth of his friend. Why he had always been drawn to protect and love these brothers. And he understood, with great clarity, that any demon or angel or monster or god who had ever feared these men, had very good reason to do so. 

Dean crouched down in the bloody mess next to his brother and laid a hand on his shaggy head. 

‘Get up.’ He commanded. 

And so Sam did. 

He stood, that same white light flashing underneath his wounds and healing them before ending in his eyes, mirroring those of his brother. He felt strong, pure in a way that he never had before. The light burning away all traces of the darkness in him that he had fought down for so long. 

Baphomet gasped in horror, blood still dripping from his twisted horns, ‘Anakim! It cannot be!’ He lowered his goat-like head in submission. ‘I did not know! Have mercy, Warrior.’

It was Dean’s turn to laugh. A terrible rumble that scratched the walls of that old barn. His white-hot gaze travelled to the man standing shoulder to shoulder with him. The brother that he had once damned his soul to Hell for. Dean's scratchy, baritone voice reverberated through the building with a resounding, ‘Fuck you.’

Dean flexed his muscles and the light of The Righteous Man fell onto the demons. They screamed in agony as they burned to ashes, atom by atom. He basked in their torment. 

When the demons had been reduced to nothing more than dust, mixing with the filth on the ground,   
Sam gasped, ‘Dean, what did you do?’

Cas answered, with wide blue eyes taking in the scene, ‘I always knew. Always knew you boys were more.’ He shook his head, a smile appearing on Jimmy’s chapped lips. ‘You are Gibborim. Shemihaza. The appointed, the bound. The mighty men of old.’ He shook his head. 

‘Long ago, before the angels were set to be the guardians of Man, there was a race of giants, Anakim. God intended for them to protect humanity. And they did. Until a group of kings decided that they wanted all the earth. Wanted to be the most powerful beings. They decimated the giants, the guardians. Rephaim in Ashteroth Karnain, the Auzim in Ham, the Emim in Shaveh Kiriathaim, and finally, the Horites in the mountain of Seir. Og, king of Bashar, was the lone survivor. It was thought that his line ended with Goliath. But now I see….’

Castiel reached out and laid a hand on Dean's stubble-lined jaw, the other on Sam’s broad shoulder. The elder Winchester leaned into it, finding comfort in the touch of his friend. They came back to themselves, then. Forgetting the death and the demons, the white light diminished and the boys returned to themselves. 

‘I now understand what God meant when he said that humanity had the two of you to protect them. Why he felt like it was ok to leave us. Why you both were brought back time and time again. You are the Guardians.’


End file.
